


All Ill 'Cept the Boz, Still

by clgfanfic



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Cody get sick, and Murray suffers</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Ill 'Cept the Boz, Still

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine The Eyes Have It #3 and later in Boss And Bodacious: Special Collection #1 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

"Murray?" Nick moaned from where he lay, stretched out on the salon's dinette bench seat.  The thick terrycloth robe wrapped around the detective looked like a cocoon, covering all exposed skin below his red, chafed nose, and muffling the already hoarse voice.

Murray Bozinsky looked up from his computer terminal with various homicidal _modis operandi_ tripping through his mind.  The thin detective rose slowly, commanding himself to remain calm.  Climbing the stairs, he proceeded over to the flu-strickened detective and said in his best I'm-not-upset voice, "Yes, Nick?"

"Oh, Murray, hi, uh, I was wondering, would it be too much to ask for you to get me a cup of coffee?"

Murray turned and stared at the pot sitting on the counter, three feet away.  "No, Nick, no problem at all.  I'd be _happy_ to get you a cup of coffee.  I'll just _walk_ right over here and pour it, okay?"

"Yeah, Murray, thanks, I really appreciate it," Nick sniffed.

The computer whiz poured the steaming liquid to the accompaniment of a second voice, echoing up from the staterooms.  "Murray?"

He ignored the moan following the echo, pouring sugar and cream into the dark liquid in indiscriminant quantities.  He handed the cup over to Nick as the plaintive voice grew into a whine as it climbed the stairs a second time.  "Murray?  Are you up there?"

"That's Cody," Nick said, taking the cup.  "Don't'cha hate people who whine when they're sick?  I know I do, that's why I'm up here.  I couldn't take it any more."

"I know it's Cody, Nick."  Murray turned on his heel.  _Who else would it be?  Attila the Hun?_   "Jack the Ripper?!"

Nick watched him leave, then shook his head.  "Murray must be getting a fever."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Murray entered the forward stateroom and stared at the equally flu-stricken third partner of the Riptide Detective Agency.  " _You_ rang?"

Cody tried to offer the man a smile.  "Oh, hi, Murray, I was wondering, is there any of that orange juice left in the fridge?"

Murray sighed.  "I don't know, Cody, _I'll_ go look."

"Thanks, Murray, I really appreciate it, you know."

"Yes, I do.  _Both_ you and Nick keep telling me how much you appreciate me _every_ time I see you."

"That's nice.  How's Nick?  I hope he's feeling better than I am.  Boy, am I glad he went upstairs, though.  I hate it when he gets sick, all he does is moan and gripe.  Have you ever noticed that?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick watched Murray climb the stairs.  "So, how's Cody?"

"Fine, he's fine, he wants orange juice."

"That doesn't sound half-bad, if you wouldn't mind, I'd–"

" _No!_ "

"No?"

"No, I _mean_ I don't mind getting you some, too!"

"Thanks, Murray," he called after the man, who disappeared into the galley this time.  "Hey, Boz, you feeling okay?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"I _hate_ it when they get sick!" Murray muttered under his breath as he stood at the sink pouring two glasses of juice.  "I don't get anything done!  You'd think they'd sleep – like _normal_ people.  I was so sure I'd get the books caught up and that paper finished for _Computer Systems News_.  And I have to get a letter off to Baba, and that book review is still only half-finished…"  He sighed.  "And I should check the long-range directional modulator on the Roboz, too."

Carrying the full glasses up, he handed one to Nick without comment, then carried the second down to Cody, who was blowing his nose with considerable fanfare.  Murray waited patiently until the performance was over and then handed him the glass of juice.

"Thanks, Mur."

"No problem."  He turned to go, determined to reach his terminal without being detoured again.

"Oh, Murray?" Cody questioned.

He froze in the doorway.  "Yes?" he asked, his quiet voice vibrating with barely-held-in-check violence.

"Could you hand me another box of tissue?  I ran out."

Murray's shoulders rose and fell in a show of extreme control.  Seven days…  How long did flu last?  Surely there was something he could do to speed the process along.

It hadn't started out like this.  A week ago each man stoically faced the ravages of the flu in his own peculiar way, refusing help and sympathy from Murray who, at the time, felt compelled to treat them like small children.  After all, Cody did have a tendency to get a little whiny, and Nick was a moaner when he was feeling bad, and both of them ended up with tempers that set the other two on edge, so he wanted to make them as comfortable as possible.

Of course they refused his best efforts.  Cody insisted that Vitamin C would do the trick.  Nick tried garlic.  Both failed – miserably.  So when their methods of choice brought them no relief Murray found himself head nurse to two very grumpy detectives with bruised egos.

"Sure, Cody, I'd be _happy_ to," he said tightly, stalking off to grab a box.  Returning he handed them over.  "Anything else?"

"No, thanks.  I app–"

"Appreciate it.  Yes, I _know_.  Why don't you try and get some _sleep?_   Maybe you'll feel better _later_."

Cody opened the box and set it on the nearby nightstand.  "Yeah, thanks, I think I'll give that a try."

" _Good_."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The monitor blinked back on, Murray wiggling down into a comfortable position in his chair.  Then he heard it again, that rough, raspy voice rolling down the stairs to drag him away from his work.  "Muurrrray?"

He pushed himself up and stalked up the stairs.  "Yes?"

"Hi, look, Murray, I really hate to bother you again so soon, but do we have any more kleenex, I–"

"You guys are doing this to me on purpose, aren't you?"

"Doing what?" Nick asked, tossing in a deep, racking cough for effect.

"Nothing, nothing," the computer wizard said, his sympathy re-engaging after the terrible sound.  "Just a minute, I'll get you some kleenex."

The detective marched back down below to retrieve the last box of tissues.

Murray brightened.  _I'll have to go to the store!  I can leave them here for a while, alone!_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Tiptoeing past the snoring dark-haired detective sprawled along the dinette bench, Murray headed for his room.  It was time to set the "cure the detective flu" plan into motion.

A few rummages through the collection of boxes and drawers turned up all the necessary props.  Finally, reaching under his bed, Murray pulled out a journal, its slick black cover reflecting in the amber glow of the computer screen.  He giggled evilly.

Once the necessary items were prepared, Murray occupied himself by finishing the magazine article, the letter to Melba, and the rough draft of the book review.  The slow creaking of someone rising from the dinette bench drifted down and Murray smiled, waiting for the footfall that told him Nick was headed for the stateroom he shared with Cody.  Once he heard the detective settle into his own bed, then the soft tones of the two men speaking, Murray grabbed his props and headed for the partners.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Like book ends, the two men lay on their bunks, buried beneath covers, noses red, kleenex tissues in one hand and the other clutching some fetish meant to make their condition tolerable.  Like sick children clinging to teddy bears or blankets, Cody cradled his old-fashioned telescope and Nick his old football.  They looked so much like two young boys that for a moment Murray considered sparing them, but the intruding memory of the repeated trips back and forth dispelled the charitable notion.

Murray remained in the doorway, setting the cardboard box on the floor and flipping the journal open.

"Guys, guess what?  This is really boss.  I've been doing some research and I think I came up with a cure for your flu."

"How, Murray?" Nick quipped.  "How could you come up with a cure?  Doctors can't even do that, Murray."

"Well, I am a doctor, too, you know."

"He's got you there," Cody added, enjoying the show.  "What've you come up with?  Some pill or something?"

"No, actually, all it took was a little cross-referencing of the immune system T-cell functioning coefficients to the ratio of the general nervous system index, which I then ran through a complex chi database to convert them to electrical potentials from which  I could then extrapolate the–"

"Murray, Murray, in English, please," Cody interrupted, then blew his nose.

Murray smiled.  The hook was in; now he just had to reel them in a little.  This was as easy as using his electronic fishing lure!

Murray shoved his glasses back up with the most authoritative gesture he could muster, then snapped the journal closed and folded his arms across his chest.  "Well, from all I've been able to find, all we need to do is stimulate your immune system with the right electrical frequency and your flu will be over."

"Just like that?" Nick asked skeptically.

"Just like that," Murray nodded.  "You see, the immune system is what makes the cells which in turn go around and attack the foreign cells in your body, or cells that have been infected by foreign agents–"

"Like a flu virus?" Cody cut in.

Murray smiled again.  One down, and one to go.  "Exactly, Cody, that was very good.  You see, Nick, if I can make your immune system work more efficiently, then it will make more cells, which will then go out and destroy the virus-invaded cells, which are the cause of the symptoms which make you feel sick.  Isn't that boss?"

"Sounds like a bad spy story.  Great, Murray, wonderful," Nick muttered.

 _Oh, well, he always was a little harder than Cody_.

"So, how're you going to rev up our immune systems, Murray?" Cody asked.

"Well, after interfacing with the medical library files at the University, I put together a system that should be able to induce the proper frequency into your systems in order to maximize the–"

"Murray, could you just explain, simply, how you can cure this thing?"

"Oh, sure, Nick," the thin detective said.

Reaching down, Murray removed the long-nosed, super-thin soldering gun that looked for all intents and purposes like the syringe dentists use for giving Novocain shots, a do-nothing black box apparatus, and a heavy voltage extension cord.  He held them up with a smile, noting with satisfaction how the light played off the shiny tip of the soldering gun. 

"What's that?!" Cody squeaked, his voice two octaves higher than the last time he'd spoke.

Nick shot his partner a worried look as they both crept slowly up against their pillows, getting ready in case they had to bolt for the door.

"Well, this is the immuno-electric "

"It's a needle, Murray, that's what that is!"

"Well, yes, Nick, it is.  But you see, all I have to do is plug this into a regular outlet, it runs through the hyperphase-stabilizer to get the frequency aligned correctly, and then all I have to do is insert this–"

"Shock therapy!  He's talkin' shock theory, man!" Nick cut in.

Cody paled noticeably, making his raw, red nose more pronounced.  "Murray, you aren't serious, are you?"

Murray put on his best scientific face.  "Of course I am.  I want to _help_ you."

"Uh, Murray, really, I'm feeling a lot better, really, man," Nick said, sitting up. "Must've been the orange juice earlier today – all that vitamin C."

"Yeah, yeah, me too, Murray.  Really, I was just telling Nick how much better I was feeling.  I don't think you'll need to speed up our immune systems."

"You're sure?  You're really sure you're feeling better?"

"Definitely, yeah," Nick said, nodding energetically.

The two men both smiled and sat up in their beds.  "I think I'll even go on in and take a shower," Cody said.

"I'm next," Nick quickly added.  "Uh, Murray, can I help you put all this stuff up or something?"

The thin man fought to keep the self-satisfied smile off his face.  "Oh no, no, that's all right, I can do it, _if_ you're sure."

"Oh, we feel fine, Murray, almost as good as new.  Should be back to one-hundred percent tomorrow, right, Nick?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Well, okay, I guess I'll go ahead and start working on the books then.  But if you start feeling bad again, just let me know and we'll try this out.  I'm sure it'll work."

The two men nodded.

Murray sighed and replaced the items in the box and picked it up, disappearing down the hall.

Nick and Cody waited until they heard the detective settle in behind his computer before they collapsed back onto their bunks.

"Oh, God, I still feel like I'm gonna die," Cody groaned softly.

"Don't say that, don't even think it, man," Nick whispered.  "You do, and Murray'll come back and _practice_ medicine on us."

"Do you think we upset him?  I mean, maybe we took advantage of him."

"You, you, took advantage of him."

"Me?  You're the one who made him climb the stairs so he could pour your coffee," Cody whispered hotly.

"Well, maybe we did take a little bit of an advantage, uh?"

"Yeah."

"All I know is, no matter what I feel like tomorrow I'm going to be just _fine_.  Did you see the _size_ of that needle?"

"Hmm," Cody concurred.  "I wonder where it was supposed to go."

"Nightmare city, big guy."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Murray shoved the box under his bed and retired to his swivel chair.  Staring contentedly at the screen, he listened to the mumbling of nervous voices.

 _It worked, it really worked!_ he tittered to himself.  _I finally put one over on them!_

He leaned back, basking in the memory of their expressions, a soft giggle spilling out.  Tomorrow he would get the books in order.

 

The End


End file.
